


Everything

by Fethermage



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, brief hawke/justice mention, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4147239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fethermage/pseuds/Fethermage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justice and Anders find each other.</p>
<p>
  <i>Anders burned bright when nothing else did, outside the Fade. Lyrium sang, and it sang in ways that made Justice ache, but it was nothing to the light Anders carried. He was magnetic.</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>Once, Anders caught Justice standing over his shoulder, feeding his energy into Anders' healing. Anders laughed and explained spirit healers to Justice. Later, Anders would call Justice his friend, but they both knew they hadn't started nearly so charitable--that moment was when they began to truly connect.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything

Anders burned bright when nothing else did, outside the Fade. Lyrium sang, and it sang in ways that made Justice ache, but it was nothing to the light Anders carried. He was magnetic.

Once, Anders caught Justice standing over his shoulder, feeding his energy into Anders' healing. Anders laughed and explained _spirit healers_ to Justice. Later, Anders would call Justice his friend, but they both knew they hadn't started nearly so charitable--that moment was when they began to truly connect.

(Previously, they had seen each other as nothing more than annoyances. Justice saw only apathy in Anders, and was bitter that such beautiful magic came from such a selfish man; Anders saw only judgment and a lack of understanding in Justice in turn.)

They sat together, away from the bustle of the Vigil, and Anders explained the Circles, and the Chantry, and mages and magic. Justice listened. Justice always listened. It burned him, how the simple act of listening meant so much to Anders. What had happened in this world was _unjust._

Anders would laugh, and sigh, and Justice knew he had been wrong. Anders was not apathy, and he was not selfishness. He was Fear.

\--

"My arm," Justice said, letting himself into the Vigil's infirmary. Anders looked up from his work (potion making, it seemed), and winced.

"Oh--yeah, that's not looking good."

Kristoff's body was dead, and with death came decay, Justice knew. It was inconvenient, to have one's arm nearly torn out of its socket, with no way to be repaired. Anders had explained he couldn't do anything with dead tissue, and so Justice was falling apart, bound to a body that someday would be unable to move.

The look Anders gave him said it all; as there was nothing Anders could do for his other injuries, there was nothing he could do for this.

Justice tipped his head and left.

\--

_When they look into each other's eyes, neither can remember who offered this first. To live a shared life--to be one with each other--is only known to Anders as_ abomination _, and to Justice as_ demon _. But Justice craves this, craves Anders in a way that reminds him of Kristoff's love for Aura, and this cannot be the realm of a demon._

_When they join, it is like Justice is truly alive for the first time. He breathes. He feels. He sees and he smells and he is pain and ecstasy and there is someone here, threatening, stabbing, and Justice rages. This cannot hurt Anders. This will not hurt Anders. No one will extinguish such a precious life. Justice pulls the sword from Anders'--his--_ their _\--chest, and he bellows, and he defends._

_Rolan, Anders' mind gives him, in fits and spurts. Templar._

_He feels_ complete _. To see Anders' magic was nothing in the face of feeling it. When he pulls from Anders' memory for a healing spell, it is like he is life itself as the magic flows through him. From him._

Spirit Healer.

_He laughs, or perhaps Anders does; never again will Anders be wanting for spirit energy in his healing. Justice will provide._

_He steps back, content and happy and in--_

Anders sees Rolan's body, and though he hated him, he screams.

Anders is still Fear.

He runs.

\--

The clinic was always, always busy. They came to Kirkwall for Karl, for the mages, and yet they found themselves caring for the refugees first and foremost. It was good work, they both agreed, to make a difference.

The Templars in Kirkwall were unjust. They brought their might down on mages and the poor alike. To live in Kirkwall was to live in terror.

"Easy," Anders said, easing Justice back. "Don't want to scare any of the refugees."

Ah, yes. The refugees would accept _mage_ , but not _spirit_ , and so Justice must stay hidden. He cracked open Anders' being, every time he took over, with the Fade shining through. The people could not know. They would report the man helping them where no one else will.

Justice could feel Anders' twist of guilt, and he rushed forward, trying to console his host. They cannot communicate as they once did, not easily, and so Anders took Justice's bitterness as aimed at him, not at their situation.

They were both new to this.

Anders eased him back again, murmuring out an apology.

\--

Hawke was on Anders' mind again.

Hawke was always on Anders' mind, in some way. The leader of Anders' new group of friends--though Justice had thoughts on just how friendly some of them were--was always dragging Anders around, distracting him from their duties and the clinic and the underground.

Justice tried not to think that. Anders always took it as anger at himself, and would speak for Justice in ways that made Justice howl in fury at the wall between their minds. If only they could speak, as they once did, in two bodies.

They chose this. Justice did not regret it, for all the hardships. He hoped Anders did not, either.

A moan from his host pulled Justice's attention back. Hawke was on Anders' mind, and Anders was with Hawke, with Hawke's hands--

Anders' hands, in reality. Justice was not jealous of Hawke, not truly, not in a way he could understand, but he did wish Anders would turn some of that attention to him. The intensity was thrilling.

Justice always quashed those thoughts before Anders could catch them. Lust and Desire were the realm of demons and mortals.

Curiosity, however, Justice had accepted and embraced. There was no harm in it. He pushed forward, pulling command of their right hand, and Anders' thoughts stopped.

"Justice?"

Justice roiled in Anders' mind, unsure of how to respond.

"If--If you want me to stop, I mean, it's your body too," Anders said, and Justice pushed against the wall, frantically denying that. Anders hesitated as Justice moved his hand, and then dawning realization flooded them both.

"Oh. _Oh._ "

This close to the surface, Justice could feel as Anders did, and as his hand stroked them to completion, it was Justice that moaned the loudest.

\--

The moment, for Justice, was on par with Anders explaining spirit healers to him as the most important in their relationship. Intrigued by Justice's actions, Anders tried harder to listen, and no longer only felt Justice's anger and bitterness.

They still fought, in their own way. Anders' self doubt swirled around any negative emotion Justice had, and he interpreted it as being directed towards him, and Justice howled in frustration, which led to an angry spiral for them both. Justice took to forcing control of their hand to write messages to Anders, short and messy, when Anders would not listen, and the guilt Anders felt often only made things worse.

But only in the moment. They were getting better.

And then they almost killed the girl.

\--

"Justice," Anders said, tears in his eyes and his belongings strewn about the clinic. "Justice, what the _fuck_?"

Justice bristled. The action was not him--it was--he was--

He had no explanation.

When he looked upon the girl, when he heard her accusation, all he felt was shame and fury and a desire to stop. To _make it stop_.

It could not be him. It was unjust. And yet it could not be Anders, either, for Anders was not Rage.

Coldness flooded Justice's nonbeing as he realized:  Anders was not Rage, but neither was he Justice.

Anders was still Fear.

And Anders' Fear had overwhelmed them both.

\--

"Justice does not approve of my obsession with you," Anders said, and Justice bristled at the untruth. He did not trust Hawke, did not know if Hawke would stand with them in their cause, but he had come to understand--Hawke made Anders happy.

Justice wanted Anders to be happy. It was just, he told himself, that a man who gave so much could find happiness. He only wished that he could _know_ Hawke, could know Hawke's intentions.

But Hawke had saved them both, had stopped them from killing the girl, and so if Anders wanted this, Justice would allow it. He would watch Hawke, and he would stay wary, but for now, he would not interfere.

(Anders felt Justice pulling away to give them privacy, felt the permission, and nearly wept in gratitude. He did not feel Justice's anxiety that this would be the end of their nights together.)

\--

Anders slept beside Hawke, tangled up limb by limb, and Justice pondered.

It had been weeks, now, weeks of Hawke and Anders, of Anders in a state of bliss and of Justice admitting that Hawke was a good person. Hawke took care of Anders in ways Justice could not, because Hawke understood what it was to be mortal.

"Hm," Anders said, hazily pulling control of their body back. "If you just thought what I think I caught--"

They both peeked over their shoulder, and then they slipped out of bed, padding towards the washroom down the hall. Anders enjoyed the bath here, and Justice had slipped close enough to the surface on a few occasions to feel the warmth of the water and he understood why.

"Justice, if I caught what you were thinking correctly, we need to stop--"

Justice felt their heart speed up in fear, and he knew it was his own.

"Hey, hey, stop that. We need to stop blaming each other. And ourselves." Anders' voice was quiet as he perched on the edge of the tub, running a hand through their hair.

Justice did not know--but he did. Easing forward, he took control enough to speak, wondering at why they had never considered that before.

"I am sorry."

He could feel a relieved laugh from Anders, which eased nerves Justice would absolutely _not_ admit he felt. Anders eased back into control, and Justice caught sight of the smirk on his face in the mirror opposite them.

"Yeah, me too. And see, I've been thinking a bit, about the things you--ah--feel, I guess, at me. They feel familiar," Anders said, and Justice could see a hint of blush on his cheeks, and once again he wished for two bodies so that he could--

"Justice. Focus." Anders' voice was a laugh, and Justice bristled in embarrassment. "Look, I'm not good at this--you know."

Love, Justice thought, the thought both alien and a comfort. What he had felt from Kristoff to Aura. What he felt--

What he felt for Anders, and what Anders felt in turn for him.

"Yeah," Anders was saying, having picked up on Justice's revelation. "I'm amazed it took us this long, too. Look, I have to talk to Hawke, but if I'm right, I want this. Maker, it's weird and it's a bit narcissistic, but--"

" _Yes_ ," Justice said, rushing forward to take command of their mouth, and he could feel Anders laugh again.

\--

"So, you--and Justice--together?" Hawke was amused and baffled, and Justice bristled again, which Anders eased down.

"Yeah. And I mean, if you two want, you and him, too." Anders was reaching out to Justice with a question, and Justice knew the look on Hawke's face: curiosity.

It was an interesting thought.

"We'll have to talk about that. Later. Absolutely. For now, Maker, Anders, it's not exactly something I expected, but I'm fine with it. More than." Hawke paused for a moment, and then: "Can I watch?"

Relief flooded them both, as well as laughter, from Anders. Justice gave his permission for Hawke to observe (Anders loved Hawke, and loved Justice, and Justice was more than happy to share, to get to know).

"Yes, you pervert. You can watch." Anders slid off the bed, pulling his tunic over his head before shimmying out of his trousers and smalls. If they had been undressing for Hawke, Anders would have taken his time, but Justice could not see their body to appreciate it and Anders was impatient, already mostly erect.

They climbed back up on the bed, together, and reclined against the headboard. Hawke shifted to watch comfortably, and the blush was from both of them.

Justice caught Anders' hand as it moved south. Anders bit back a groan as Justice worked his hand back upward, cupping Anders' cheek before moving to fist Anders' hair. Taking control of their--his--other hand, Justice squeezed Anders' throat before moving downwards to rest quietly on Anders' stomach, laughing from inside Anders' mind.

" _Justice_ ," Anders reprimanded, canting his hips upwards. Justice could feel Anders' cock--their cock--and marveled at how far they had come. This body was shared, with sensations from both of them, and Justice sent Anders a glow he hoped Anders understood.

("I love you too," Anders whispered back.)

Justice walked his fingers down to their cock, and past, cupping their balls briefly as Hawke inhaled beside them. Moving his hand from Anders' hair, Justice gestured toward the side nightstand and took control of their voice to ask for oil.

The sound of Justice's voice had Hawke inhaling again as the oil was quickly retrieved and pushed into Justice's hand. Justice eased back, concentrating on slicking two of his fingers. They had done this, a few times, in their nights together, but it had always been Anders, with Justice's hand on their cock.

Justice was, he hoped, a quick learner.

Anders canted his hips again, heart pounding in excitement. Feeling smug that Anders was already flushed, Justice pulled Anders' thigh up with one hand and pressed his slick fingers to Anders gently, teasing him with slow circles.

" _Justice_ ," Anders moaned, and Justice had never expected to love the word so much when he took it as his name.

"He's a tease," Hawke laughed, beside them, and they both glanced over to see Hawke's hand moving. The feeling of accomplishment (Hawke was loving this) belonged to them both, and Justice pushed his first finger in, slow.

Anders whined, and Justice hushed him. The thrusts of his hand were steady, deliberate, moving deeper with every pass. As he let go of the hand on Anders' thigh, Justice pressed in a second finger, gentle as he was able. Anders' hand immediately went to the oil, and Justice hummed his question when Anders--

Maker, Anders pressed a finger of his own inside them beside Justice, and it was Justice who moaned.

The angle was awkward, but it didn't matter. They both rode their hand, hips thrusting down as they stretched themselves. Anders was searching, and when he pressed up against a spot, Justice bucked their hips wildly, flashes of blue making their way in waves over their body.

"Damn," Hawke said beside them, amazed.

Anders pulled his finger away with silent instructions for Justice to take over where he left off, and Justice did, frantically. Anders'  hand went to their cock, stroking fast as Justice pushed in a third finger to replace the one Anders had taken away. They were thrusting together, into Anders' fist and against Justice's fingers.

A spark of magic danced down their cock from Anders' hand as Justice pressed relentless against that spot, and they roared together--rare, for Anders, who kept so silent--as they came, warm streaks hitting Justice's--Anders'-- _their_ chest. Anders stroked them until they were both shivering from the sensation, and Justice pulled his fingers away, gently.

Anders' body had remarkable stamina; they were still hard, still wanting, panting together in the wake of their release. Hawke shifted closer, having found their own pleasure, pupils blown.

"I, ah," Hawke said, "I have a--toy. If you want."

"Oh," they said together, " _yes_."

\--

_Kirkwall is on fire, and Hawke stands beside them in the destruction._

_They had been so afraid._

_"Come on," Hawke says, holding a hand out. "We've got mages to save."_

_Together, they take Hawke's hand, whispering to each other and to Hawke: "I love you."_

_"Yeah," Hawke says, streaked with soot and eyes wild with adrenaline, "I love you both too."_

_Justice was wrong. Anders is not Fear._

_Anders is_ everything.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Everything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644648) by [Kess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kess/pseuds/Kess)




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